


Seeing Red, or, Danny and Steve and the itty-bitty swimming trunks

by commatme



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, First Time, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, this is not lingerie fic but i think danny’s lingerie kink conceivably plays a part here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 14:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commatme/pseuds/commatme
Summary: As always, Steve rises out of the water like the personification of sin. It’s as if the ocean itself in all its timeless and cruel glory looked at him and thought, fuck yes, I want to play a supporting role in uplifting this guy’s beauty.One thing is not as always. It’s small and red and indecent.





	Seeing Red, or, Danny and Steve and the itty-bitty swimming trunks

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Кругом все красное](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26106949) by [fandom Hawaii Five-0 2020 (fandom_HawaiiFive0_2018)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_HawaiiFive0_2018/pseuds/fandom%20Hawaii%20Five-0%202020), [Urtica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urtica/pseuds/Urtica)

> The complete history of how this happened: I tried to write a PWP ficlet inspired by Danny’s admiration of Harry Langford’s “short shorts, babe, like Daisy Dukes” and the fic snuck up behind me and went “HAHA, I will be at least 2.5k and involve unnecessary banter!” and I sighed deeply and said okay, if that’s how you want to be.

The first problem is that Danny gets caught staring. More particularly, caught by Kono, and not even staring at Steve, because at least that would have made complete sense. Steve is eternally doing _something_ worth staring at. 

No, they’re in a surf shop, because of course someone in Hawaii had to get murdered surrounded by surfboards eventually, and this particular place also sells a selection of swimsuits and board shorts. There are a handful of mannequins standing around, modeling the ware, showing off perfectly sculptured, inhumanly smooth dark grey cleavage and abs. One of the models is a headless, armless male body, and when Danny is first confronted with it, very suddenly when he turns a corner, he thinks for a second that it’s naked.

Then he looks down. And keeps looking. The fake dude may be lacking some important human parts near the top, but he has no problems down there. A pair of bright red swimming trunks covers his package, but they cut off so high on the thigh that Danny has to wonder if they were really designed for someone with a dick to wear. The white string at the front is neatly tied into a bow, the two ends trailing down to frame the bulge.

“I bet the boss could rock that,” Kono says, grinning.

Danny totally doesn’t startle because he hadn’t realized the rest of Five-0 had come up behind him. He pulls a face and makes very sure it’s one that’s horrified instead of unwillingly aroused. “God, no.”

“Hell yes, I could,” Steve says, and promptly grabs a pair to buy, probably just to be a contrary bastard. Very unprofessional, to boot. You don’t go shopping in the middle of a crime scene.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Danny tells Kono, without even knowing how deeply predictive his words will turn out to be.

Kono winks at him. “You’re welcome, brah.”

-

For a few days, it’s fine. Danny almost has time to forget about it. They solve the case and it feels pretty good, because even people who willingly set foot in surf shops deserve some kind of justice.

Then a Sunday comes along, and it’s one where Danny doesn’t have the kids, so Steve invites him over for dinner and a movie, platonic BFF bro style. When Danny arrives, the front door is open but Steve is nowhere in sight and there are no noises coming from upstairs. He makes his way through the house, over the lanai and into the garden. Steve’s not there either, but there’s a moving dot out in the ocean, so Danny heads for the beach. He’s just in time to watch Steve perform a last handful of flawless freestyle strokes before he comes too close to the shore and would run aground if he didn’t get up.

As always, Steve rises out of the water like the personification of sin. It’s as if the ocean itself in all its timeless and cruel glory looked at him and thought, fuck yes, I want to play a supporting role in uplifting this guy’s beauty.

One thing is not as always. It’s small and red and indecent. 

Danny decides yelling across the water while Steve is still slightly too far out to carry on a comfortable conversation is definitely the thing to do. “What are you wearing? You’re aware that’s inappropriate, right?”

Steve takes his time replying. He runs a hand over his hair and then his face to push the water off. If the move was meant to drive his almost-grin away, too, it completely fails at that, but it does show off his biceps and shoulders very nicely. “Are you objectifying me, Daniel?”

“Yes, Steven,” Danny shoots back. Steve is splashing through the last few feet of water by now. “Because you’re a tool.”

He turns his back on Steve and makes his way back to the house before anything more disastrous can happen, but Steve’s startled, genuine laughter chases him, hitting him in the back like direct sunlight.

-

Everything is so much worse from that point on. Danny has _dreams_ about the not-quite-speedo, and when he blinks, ever hours after he wakes up he’s still faced with an afterimage of Steve, grinning and practically naked, glowing and happy and strong in the golden afternoon light that really, really likes him and all the dips and valleys of his body. 

-

If Danny were the kind of guy who takes out bets on the time it takes his own mind to snap, he would have given himself less time than it actually takes. That’s his only solace when he’s forced to watch Steve emerge after his swim, red trunk-clad and mouthwatering, for the eleventh time in seven days. It’s a Saturday, they don’t have anywhere to go, and Danny’s dick is starting to develop a serious abandonment complex with how often he’s tried to ignore it over the past few days.

It’s ridiculous. Even actual animal seals don’t go swimming this much and they definitely don’t keep timing their swims precisely so that their best friend will try to pick them up for work just when it ends, or call said best friend over and then randomly decide to go for an afternoon swim when they _know_ they’ll have company soon.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Danny realizes, out loud, when Steve takes his first steps onto the strip of beach. He’s a bit late to this revelation, but in his defense, he’s been very distracted.

“Hello to you too,” Steve says amiably, plucking his towel from the beach chair and then doing absolutely nothing with it except dry his face and hold it, which does zilch to hide the sharp cut of his hips just above the waistband of the trunks or the glistening of his tanned skin. “Doing what on purpose?”

Danny suffers.

“Earth to Danno,” Steve says, and taps two cold fingers against Danny’s cheek. 

Which is a mistake. Huge one. The contact is brief and not exactly sensual, but it sends a shock through Danny’s body and leaves his fingers tingling, and he knows, he just _knows_, that it won’t go away until he initiates some contact of his own.

“Okay!” Danny announces, loudly. “Okay, you know what, final warning: if you don’t want me to touch you in ways that are distinctly unplatonic, say so now, or things between us are potentially going to be very awkward for a while.”

Steve’s grin comes on slowly, like spiced honey dripping down Danny’s spine. He dumps the towel back on the chair. “I think I’m good.”

“No,” Danny says, advancing, because that was permission, which Steve just gave him. “You’re bad. You’re really bad, terrible, awful, you-” They collide while Steve is still grinning and Danny still talking, both of which gets pushed aside in favor of pushing closer together. That first kiss is like a dive into cool water: Danny stops breathing, time slows down, and it’s a sensation he can feel all over his body. 

It’s also kind of wet. Steve’s skin, of which there is a hedonistic amount within reach, still has droplets of salt water clinging to every inch. Danny clings to Steve too, just to show the ocean who’s boss. He runs his hands over Steve’s back, following the curve of his spine until he reaches the swell of Steve’s ass, and Steve shivers, which breaks their kiss.

“You’re warm,” Steve murmurs, clinging right back. His hips make a jerky circular motion, like he can’t decide whether to push his ass back into Danny’s hands or his dick against Danny’s front. 

Danny solves the problem for him by grabbing two handfuls of Steve’s ass through the clingy, damp fabric and dragging him in closer. “That’s what happens when you don’t spend most of your days skinny-dipping in the Pacific.”

“It’s not skinny-dipping if I’m wearing a swimsuit.”

Danny works a thumb into the waistband of the trunks and makes the fabric snap. “It’s offensive to call this a _suit_, Steve. There would be mass casualties from champagne-choking if you showed up like this to the Governor’s next fundraiser.”

“Hmm,” Steve says, like that’s an intriguing suggestion. “Give me one of your ties and I’d be good to go.”

“How about right now we go inside instead?” Steve makes a noise of assent, so Danny takes a very difficult step back. The temporary separation is made a lot easier when he realizes that this way, he may not get to touch as much, but he gets to look, which has its own attractions.

Mainly, the open, eager look on Steve’s face, every single thing about his chest (nipples, pecs, abs, hair, oh god, happy trail), and the red bulge that underlines it all. Steve would have no reason to feel inadequate next to the mannequin.

Danny grabs one of the white drawstrings and pulls, which first undoes the very neat bow and a few inches later forces Steve to come along.

“You know, for someone who thinks I’m bad and terrible you seem to have a very hard time keeping your hands off me.”

Danny does not look back as he leads Steve from the sand onto the grass, because he doesn’t need to do that to pick up on the heavy amusement in Steve’s voice. “Those are not mutually exclusive. People can be terrible and still really hot.”

“So actually, I’m terribly hot, is what you’re saying.”

Danny has breaking points, and apparently, once one of them has been reached, the others are very close. He changes direction sharply and veers off to the side, yanking Steve along for a few more steps, until they’ve reached the nearest tree and he can push Steve up against it with some maneuvering. “No, it’s not.”

“Well, it’s what I’m hearing.” Steve wriggles a little under Danny’s hands, not trying to break free, just drawing both of their attention to Danny’s palms on his shoulders and Danny’s front pressed up against his. “Feeling it, too.”

Danny thinks they should try to get this back on track, so he moves one of his hands to cup the hard outline of Steve’s dick in his trunks. 

“Oh-” Steve’s hips buck again. “I see you, uh, you’re feeling things too.”

Danny squeezes. “Yes, feelings are definitely involved.”

Steve’s eyes, which had grown a little unfocused, abruptly turn very sharp at that. Before Danny can try to backtrack, Steve grabs his face and kisses him, hard. Danny decides to take that as the opposite of a rejection.

When the kiss ends, he sinks down to his knees, using Steve’s body to steady him. It hitches under Danny’s touch when Steve realizes what’s happening. Steve’s hands start trying to push his trunks down, frantically, but Danny puts a halt to the proceeding before any progress can be made. “Leave it.”

“Okay,” Steve says slowly, after a moment of nothing more than hard breathing. Danny can feel the resistance go out of Steve’s wrists, so he lets them go. 

He uses his own free hands to reach into the right leg of the trunks, pulling the fabric away and pushing it up, guiding Steve’s erect dick to freedom. It’s not ideal, of course – Steve’s balls and the base of his dick are still trapped – but Steve is big enough and the trunks are tiny enough that just the careful shift in position, without having to pull at the fabric at all, would probably have made his dickhead poke out when he’s in this state. It’s more than enough, anyway, for Danny to hold Steve steady. 

With one hand gripping Steve’s hip, thumb digging in the hollow there, and the other on his dick and holding back the trunk leg, it’s easy to lean in and lick. Just that first taste tells him this is going to be the saltiest blow job he’s ever given, but that’s nothing except a challenge to lap the remainders of ocean from Steve’s skin.

“Oh,” Steve says, when Danny really takes him into his mouth. “Oh, I- I-”

Danny sucks and hums and sucks harder, and all too soon, Steve is tapping fingers to his cheek, just like on the beach right before this all started, but warm now, dry, a careful warning instead of a tease. Danny squeezes Steve’s hip and for good measure his dick, too, and lets him come on his tongue, swallowing every last drop down. When he pulls off, every bit of wet shine to Steve’s dick is Danny’s own spit. He feels unexpectedly powerful: for once, a human fought the Pacific and won.

He gets back up on his feet, helped along by Steve’s hands pulling him up. “Good?” 

Steve looks a little shell-shocked and a lot like a man who just came his brains out. “Terribly hot,” he says, and Danny would complain about that becoming their first in-joke as an official couple, but Steve kisses him again.

He pushes up against Steve, and they seem to have the same thought at the same time, because their hands bump and their fingers tangle trying to get Danny’s fly undone. He’s throbbing and his slacks have grown seriously uncomfortable and he hisses in relief when, in a joint effort, they get his pants and underwear pushed down just enough to expose his dick. He takes himself in hand and he’s already close. 

He leans his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, looking down between their bodies at where he’s jerking off while Steve is still wearing the trunks which are rucked up awkwardly on the right side and still expose part of his dick, and Steve runs his hands over Danny’s sides and arms and back and neck like he has as much of a problem keeping his hands to himself as he accused Danny of having, even though he has to feel Danny up through a shirt. It’s no wonder that it doesn’t take long until Danny comes, too, spilling white and wet on the drying red fabric. If he thought it looked striking before, his imagination clearly just wasn’t active enough.

He sags against Steve, and Steve brings his arms up and keeps him there, keeping both of them upright against the bark of the tree that must be biting into his bare back by now. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, because after a long, peaceful moment he starts snickering out of nowhere, soft but real.

“What?” Danny asks.

One of Steve’s broad hands strokes down his back. “You ruined my suit. Can’t meet the Governor now.”

“Wear your birthday suit instead. I bet that’s also a great look.”

Steve laughs harder. It’s not that good of a joke, but for some reason, Danny ends up laughing, too.

-

Later, while Steve is spooning detergent into the washing machine, he glances up at Danny. It’s quite a sight: Steve, post-shower and naked as the day he was born, doing laundry that consists mostly of Danny’s damp and ruined clothes, and one tiny scrap of bright red nylon blend that’s been carefully rinsed with cold water to avoid the setting of any suspicious stains. 

“You should wear them some time,” Steve says, sounding thoughtful.

Danny leans a shoulder against the door jamb and watches in satisfaction as Steve’s eyes briefly skitter up and down his equally naked body. “That is not usually what people mean when they talk about sharing clothes with their significant other.”

Steve grins and makes the washing machine beep and start rumbling. “And that’s not a no.”

**Author's Note:**

> A deleted scene:
> 
> _The tent at the front of Steve’s pants is less like a modest two-person camping affair and more like something fit to house a circus._
> 
> _“Are you calling me a clown?” Steve asks. Ah, apparently Danny said that out loud._
> 
> _“You just called yourself a clown.” As a distraction from how weak that argument is, he grabs Steve’s ass again._
> 
> _It seems to work. “I don’t care. I don’t care, I’ll learn to juggle if you want, just-”_
> 
> I liked it, but I had to cut them off somewhere. Also, should there ever be clowns in porn? Presumably a hotly debated and very divisive issue.


End file.
